Hindsight Is 20/20

Above: The Dukes Of Hazzard and Roscoe P. Coltrane, by Jeope Wolfe (circa 1982). Marker and crayon on notepad. Artist's note: Looks like the Duke boys have won this one. Roscoe's overheatin', and about to run over a thumbtack.

When I was seven and eight years old, I would draw trains on rolls of accounting paper that would stretch across the room and out the door. Later on I would draw cartoon owls called ookpiks, after the Inuit toys I collected. I drew birds and maps. I never drew people because I didn't know how and was afraid of failing at it. And when I finally started, I drew astronauts so I wouldn't have to do faces. My friends in junior high held contests at who could draw the best Wolverine, but I didn't follow comic books. By high school I was pretty good at most stuff in art class, and in my graduating year I won the Art Award, consisting of a plaque and a set of Staedtler-Mars™ pens.

Then I did a terrible thing. When my mom and I moved from our house on Lenore Street (the last house I ever lived in), I purged a huge chunk of stuff from my room. My teenage years were almost over, and I was looking ahead. I threw out all manner of drawings, doodles and art class assignments because they no longer looked cool. They looked awkward and childish – which in retrospect, they were. But at the time I couldn't see their charm. Too bad. I'd like every one of them back now.